Static Liars
by pierrotfool
Summary: Seta Souji returns to Inaba in pursuit of a new truth, but liars seek a different kind of truth than most. There's never been someone quite like Adachi that understands him so well, and Souji figures that the detective is, perhaps, the best solution. Post-game accomplice ending for Persona 4 Golden (with spoilers).
1. Chapter 1: Drive

**A/N:** _I usually don't write-long term fanfics because I don't really have the time for them, but this is probably the only pairing that I'm genuinely invested into. I love the psychological dynamic between Souji and Adachi, and I hope that I do them justice. If people like it enough, I'll definitely make it 10+ chapters, and while I have the intention of eventually writing smut, I'm not going to do it until I've fleshed out the context/plot to their potentials. The length of this indefinitely depends on reception since I'm writing it on my free time. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys! Feedback is always appreciated!  
_

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"_What do you think will happen if I shoot you?_"

_Click._

"_You can't shoot me."_

Souji Seta blinks, and wipes his eyes. The dream usually ends there. He knows because he writes summaries of how they begin and how they end, and the patterns are clearer than the television world when he equipped his glasses. The dreams' exposition and finale are always the same; it's what happens in between that is different. While the dreams had a sinister edge to them, he finds them comforting, so he doesn't mind.

Souji never questioned himself as seriously as he did now. Even nods given in menial circumstances feel strange, and he almost doesn't hear the woman on the train ask him if he's visiting his relatives. He shakes his head and answers that he isn't; he wouldn't be staying with the Dojimas this year. Two years had passed since he'd first left Inaba, and he sometimes wondered if he'd ever left at all. Yosuke and Nanako made themselves strongly extant through their impressive efforts in keeping in touch, but even then, Souji often questions if the chronic distance of two years could make any noticeable difference. He doesn't expect the woman to understand in the same way that he doesn't expect any of his friends to. He remembers giving her his usual, blank stare but he also recalls telling her, a complete stranger, the evident truth. Truth was all he cared for during his time spent in Inaba, and truth was what Tokyo could not reciprocate. Tokyo offered many things that Inaba also had and often more, yet, Souji knew that he wasn't "complete" in Tokyo, not because he missed his friends, but because he missed an opportunity that he could have taken, but chose not to. Smiling lightly, he murmurs to the woman that he's visiting a monster, well, not really, he had actually said, "a horrible person", but the terms are nonetheless synonymous. The monster is horrible, and so is Seta Souji. His only regret was that he didn't make it clear in their final encounter that the two of them were, frankly, at a mutual understanding.

The train passes through the final tunnel until reaching its destination, and the woman, for a brief second, is in more literal darkness than she'd know. Light fills the train car when it exits the tunnel, and the woman looks perplexed. Souji doesn't expect her to react much differently, but can't help but feel slightly discouraged when she turns away from him and ends the conversation with an "oh". He steps off at Inaba when the voice on the telecom announces his arrival. He never sees the woman again, but she isn't important. She's more of a stranger to him than that person could ever be, and his "ability" makes this clear enough to him. There is no sound of breaking glass when he speaks to her, and no Arcana is registered to her person either. Every relationship formed in Inaba had meant something to him, and he often found them lewd. He is a natural at dissecting others like a surgeon unraveling his patient. Discovering Yosuke's secret had been stimulating, fascinating almost. Yosuke's trembling voice, his display of weakness, and strangely enough, his strength among peril, was truly amazing. It was the first spark, the first of Souji's collection, but as he filled himself with more-Yukiko, Chie, Naoto, Kanji, Rise, Teddie even, he knew that he was no different from that monster.

Truly, Seta Souji performed his own operations under blacklight, and only that person figured him out. Everyone else was simply being developed; Izanami couldn't have picked a better metaphor. The goddess only chose tools competent enough in bearing fruit anyways, and Souji was glad that she had a decent eye. It was easy for him, since people were easy _to _him. He knew how to care for them without putting any serious, emotional investment into his relationships with them, and they were fine with it, mostly because they perceived him as someone else. Simply put, the world is not challenging.

He waits in the Inaba rain to be picked up. The train station is desolate, and he takes comfort in knowing that he's the only person there, waiting, unseated. The wet atmosphere doesn't bother him. He didn't pack much, not really, and his motives have never been anything far from ulterior. The rain is helpful, and the only thing that Souji bothers protecting from the perspiration at all is the bag of cabbages under his arm. They are, after all, Tokyo cabbages. Souji himself wouldn't know the difference between Inaba and Tokyo's cabbages, but the vegetable's recipient most likely would.

When a black car finally pulls up, Souji doesn't bother to knock, and lets himself in regardless of the driver's identity. The door opens with ease, and he's surprised that the driver had already unlocked it beforehand. Shrugging and poking his head in, Souji gives an odd half-smile, and cheerfully says, "_Konnichiwa_, Adachi-san."

A pregnant pause.

"_Konnichiwa_, Souji-kun," comes the monster's reply, and Souji tries to conceal his disappointment at how Adachi Tohru doesn't look any different at all. Adachi's trademark suit fits him in the same way that it had two years prior, and his lanky form had not changed. Still, Souji sits himself down, and wonders if this is actually true and that the detective did not adapt. The latter proves Souji wrong by turning on the radio with a swift movement of his thumb and a smile, and Japanese pop music fills the car's interior. Adachi Tohru is _happy_, and Souji occupies himself by wondering if this, too, is a facade.

"It's amazing," Adachi begins, drumming his fingers on the wheel. He has a faraway look in his eyes, but there's nothing about Adachi's character, to Souji at least, that's distant. "Just amazing."

"Yeah. Aido's debut album's doing better than the critics expected," Souji comments, and Adachi's lips tighten.

"It's amazing," the detective corrects, "That you have my number, and after all these years, the first person you choose to see in Inaba is me." He pauses. "You're a dumbass, y'know?"

"I don't." Souji answers, blank as ever.

Adachi's charcoal eyes glaze over Souji's greys, and he's silent for awhile before he starts muttering again.

"Sure you are. If there's anything you need, you could just call me. You know better than anyone that I could never ignore your call. You're my accomplice, kid."

Souji nods, aloof. His reply, to Adachi's chagrin, is a terse one.

"Yeah," the boy agrees.

"But you don't call me."

"Not really."

"You know, Souji-kun, you aren't very chatty over the phone. It's the police's duty to keep tabs on those who've committed crimes. The police don't like it when you don't give them the full truth. It makes you suspicious."

"No. It's just you," Souji retorts, and Adachi's smirking again, but Souji doesn't feel uncomfortable; neither Fools ever did, and it's what makes their capabilities occupational. Souji had burned the evidence on his own accord, he, too, bored of his own game, tired of its concept. Burning the papers had been a herculean feat; Souji had never blatantly done anything so morally unacceptable in his life before, but he's certain that it was Adachi's presence that made all the difference. It had been a cerebral feeling of affinity, and it was what tied him to Inaba. He'd assumed that Inaba could do better than Tokyo, only to be confronted with how wrong he was. Inaba was as mundane as Tokyo, but Adachi Tohru was anything _but_. Conniving, jaded, and idealistically _kind_, he was all sorts of interesting, and Souji simply couldn't risk turning a rare treasure over to the police.

The teenager leans back against the passenger seat and watches Adachi drive. The latter is slightly distracted, but manages to pull through traffic, grimacing as he watches the street signs.

"How's school?" the detective asks, not because he actually cares, but because it's a clue. A hint. Something to go off on. Something he could use to fuck with the kid. He hasn't done so in awhile.

"Good." Souji replies, denying the other man any conversational triumph. And then tosses out his own, "How's work?"

Adachi laughs his "bumbling fool" laugh and gives the teenager a bemused look. Contrary to the front that he puts up with Dojima, Adachi _hates_his partner's little snot of a nephew, and abhors how the latter could be so fucking casual with his own blackmailer. Adachi's suspects that the little shit probably assumes that he's got the detective all figured out, and that he knew how to please or rile the detective in the same way that he did with his friends and family. And he looked so fucking dull doing it too, with his empty stare and boy-band haircut.

"Same old, same old," Adachi finally states. "And it's all thanks to you." He grins, waiting.  
It becomes increasingly clear that the teenager's return to Inaba isn't without purpose, and Adachi has the inkling that the kid honestly can't hold it in much longer.

"I came back because I wanted to see you," Souji blurts, plainly, candidly, and openly. He says it calmly, and he doesn't look away from the road ahead. It seems to Adachi that the younger male had wanted to confess this for some time, and it's intriguing.

Adachi turns and truly studies the teen for the first time since he'd gotten on the car, and adverts his eye back towards the road also.

"Amazing," Adachi marvels with a whistle. "Just amazing. Life is so easy for you, Souji-kun. So easy."

"It's not," Souji dejectedly says, and ruffles his own hair. This wasn't going over the way that he'd planned it, and Adachi's reactions were short of what he'd wanted them to be. "I don't think you understand why I came back, Adachi-san."

"Sure I do. You're finally actually not out of your mind. You're gonna try to get out of this situation. Put me in jail."

This time, it's Souji that chuckles, and surprisingly, chills run down Adachi's spine.

"Not at all, Adachi-san." murmurs the teenager, his voice strangely gentle. "You've shown me your World; and from one Fool to another, I never got the chance to show you mine."

Souji's poised towards Adachi now, his own grey eyes filled with something that even the detective can't quite decipher. It's something borderline predatory and hunger, and Adachi barks an uncharacteristic laugh.

Things just got more interesting.

"Good, good," he chuckles, and presses harder down on the pedal, and his voice gains the same edge that it did two years ago in the TV world.

Static.

"_I've got all the time, kid_."


	2. Chapter 2: Machiavellian

**A/N: **_This chapter's more dialogue heavy, as promised. It's still largely setup, but expect action from Chapter 3 forwards. Feedback lets me know if I'm doing this correctly and portraying the characters in a new, fascinating way, while keeping them true to their skins. __**Please R&R!**_

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Adachi smirks underneath his smile, feeling the adrenaline that he hasn't gotten since the fucking kid let him have his own way with Inaba's climate, literally and figuratively. The detective is pleased that Doujima's nephew, like him, gracefully cuts the shit. Adachi himself had stopped killing, not that he'd confess to anyone about being the culprit. Killing was simply the journey, not the destination. He gives the teenager a sideways glance, and assumes that the latter is not yet aware that the Fog Murders are over. Adachi shrugs. The murders are minutely relevant to him, and the Inaba Police Department reflects this. Doujima had been instructed by his superiors to close the case. The Fog Murders had been filed away two weeks ago as unsolved. It would undergo station procedures like its arcane predecessors, and Adachi was instructed to focus on other tasks and to act less like a rookie.

The gun in his holster weighs like air now.

His passenger breaks his train of thought.

"I brought you some stuff," Souji adds, gesturing to the cabbage.

"Noticed. Thanks," Adachi mumbles.

"You're welcome. But I got you some books, too."

"Don't have time to read. I work overtime for your uncle, remember?"

"You don't have to read them. I'll read them to you."

"Are you trying to be funny? You're the kid," Adachi scoffs, and makes a left turn when he remembers to. "And you're not my kid. You don't read to me."

Souji frowns and feigns a rare look of hurt.

"Well, I can cook, and I'm on winter vacation." he says with a nonchalant nuance; Souji is smiling, Adachi can hear it in his voice. "And you're working overtime for my uncle. Gutters for you."

Adachi is silent again, and Souji's voice resonates warmly with the chilly, outside air. The boy lowers his passenger window and Adachi raises it back up with an irritated press of his thumb. The car stops in front of a leaky apartment, and Souji wonders which of the brown doors belong to the detective, and if the interior of his room looks any better than the exterior of his apartment complex. The man had always implied his living situation subtly, it didn't take Naoto to make the assumption that Adachi Tohru did not live as well off as he had thought he would. Frankly, Souji was certain that Naoto knew more of peoples' surfaces than their marrow, so this did not surprise him. What surprised him was how wrong she often was. Quiet is all that permeates when errors occur, only sound disrupting the silence is Adachi's fingers' rhythmic drumming on the steering wheel.

When Adachi finally speaks, he sounds curious

"How long?" he inquires, staring ahead still.

"Two weeks," Souji replies cheerfully. "I won't be a bother."

Adachi grunts.

"Two weeks my ass. Does Dojima know you're here?" the latter mutters, thinking it strange that his partner's nephew would choose to be secretive about his own arrival. His eyes are overcast again, static, like the midnight channel. It didn't make sense no matter how Adachi looked at it. Was Souji truly more clandestine than he thought him to be? The detective didn't think so, and didn't _want _to think so, because the idea was not only infuriating but also mundane. He prefers thinking of the brat as, well, a little shit. Yet, due to previous encounters, Adachi's conscious that the boy cannot, by any means, be an idiot. Souji suffices in his answer.

"Nobody knows I'm here." Souji says, and echoes himself a bit.

Adachi shifts in his seat and unplugs his car key.

"I could kill you here, y'know."

"You can't. You won't. I know."

The detective snorts and heaves his weight on the car door, allowing it to swing open with more ease.

"Come on. We have to climb a few stairs. Give me those bags," he gestures, and Souji obliges. He hands Adachi the books and cabbages, keeping only a small duffel bag to himself.

Inside Adachi's apartment, Souji revels in dripping rainwater everywhere. Adachi hadn't noticed how drenched he was during the car ride, but after he'd had the lights switched on, the man had cried out in alarm and returned with a towel, looking as disarrayed and slightly peeved. He didn't bother cleaning his abode in preparation for his guest, mainly because unruliness had become an ugly habit. Messiness, among all Adachi's other vices, was something that he didn't figure needed fixing. Who would commend him for doing so? Nobody would, and he knew that he certainly could care less about himself, he, an ex-Hokkaido U honor student. Eventually, he became less keen to his own deprecation. Among others, Adachi also doesn't seem aware of Souji's newfound fascination with the apartment's furnishing and decor, rather, lack of. A worn sofa rests peacefully in the corner of the one-room apartment, and Souji figures that it was probably donated from a tenant who decided to retire it. All of Adachi's furniture emitted the same aesthetic vibe; none of them matched each other or the thematic, cracked, grey look of the room, and on the surface, they were far from novelty. Yet, they don't embarass Adachi, and Souji doesn't find them disturbing. He moves the books and cabbages onto a sloppy kotatsu, and sits himself down beside it. There's a small TV on the far side of the room, and it had been turned on without Souji noticing.

"_Ah! Sangoku san! You have pulled the RABBIT CARD! That means that you get to hop into the foggy, boiling hell!"_

"_Does everyone want Sangoku san to jump into the pit?"_

A game show is playing and its sound muffles when Adachi lowers the television's volume.

Adachi chooses to throw himself on the sofa, appearances being the least of his concerns. He leans back further against the cushion, and has his arms crossed over his chest. He'd sit beside the little shit when a snowball found its way into hell, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to interrogate him any further; he is, after all, an Inaba detective. It'd almost be hilariously _irresponsible._

Souji returns his glare with his own, sheepish stare.

"Hey. There are ground rules." Adachi states, his glare emphasized by his inhospitable tone. "First rule. If you're going to live here, you can't be doing that. That's fucking with me."

Souji cocks his head, brows raised.

"I meant that. Stop doing that. That creepy staring thing you do; stop it."

The boy gives a slow nod and fixes his gaze on something else, and Adachi relaxes.

"Good. Second rule. You buy your own food. I'm not your dumbass caretaker."

"Sure. I can cook," Souji shrugs, and Adachi grits his teeth and ignores the retort.

"Third rule. You transport yourself. I'm not your dumbass driver."

Souji smiled.

"I have legs," the teenager fondly answers.

Adachi chooses to ignore that also.

"Fourth rule. No bringing your stupid friends in here."

"You sound like an older sister, Adachi-san. They don't know I'm here."

"Whatever. Fifth rule." A stark pause, and the detective frowns. "-If I come up with one, there will be a fifth rule. That's all there is for now."

Adachi exhales, and Souji mimics the action. The latter grins and props his cheek against a fist.

"I'm surprised that you didn't kick me out," laughs the boyish Fool, and Adachi laughs darkly himself. He sounds hollow and suspicious when he does, but he's almost comforted by the fact that he doesn't need to explain this to Souji Seta. Contrary to what the brat would know, Adachi, too, feels curiously inviting. He convinces himself that it's nothing short of curiosity, and the desire for truth, to understand, is normal to the two of them.

"Yeah well, don't get used to it." the detective says with a regal air, and Souji scratches his head.

"Nah. I think it's quite opposite. I did offer to cook for you before," the younger Persona user says, bemused.

"Same answer. I'd prefer it if a girl came over."

Souji laughs again, and picks up the bag of cabbages in preparation for dinner, and Adachi, finding nothing "rich" to do with himself, fumbles through the books that Souji had brought over, and gets lost again. He thumbs through the pages faster than he'd ever done with police documents, and feels his hands going numb. It had to be coincidence, there was no way that the brat could have known that the texts were identical to the ones that he'd enjoyed as a student from Hokkaido. He'd sold them for train tickets and living expenses, like he had with the rest of his bulk when he'd moved to Inaba for his new job. Yet, they were here again, in different editions, but they were here nonetheless. He didn't understand why the little shit had purchased these, but it's not important. Machiavelli, Franz Kafka, Shakespeare-they're all here, in their translated glory. Books that he himself, as a student, had found enlightening, frightening, and wonderful. His fingers tightened around _The Prince_'s spine. He didn't know if he'd let go this time.

Souji's "_Itadakimasu_" startles Adachi, and the latter drops the volume he's holding and gapes. Chopsticks are raised between the boy's fingers, and he has a bowl of cabbage soup in his non-dominant hand. Adachi supposes that cabbage soup didn't take long to prepare, and hopes that the little shit doesn't eat more than Adachi would like him to.

"Are you familiar with them?" Souji asks between chews and swallows, and Adachi says nothing.

"I read them untranslated in Tokyo. I didn't know if you're familiar with English, so I bought the translated versions instead. Machiavelli seems like someone you would like."

Adachi glares down into his cabbage soup. He hates how good it smells. Fuck.

"You should eat," Souji gestures, and Adachi does. He didn't need some snotty city kid to tell him when to succumb to his appetite.

"I don't need you to read these to me," Adachi mutters. "I can do it myself."

"Sure."

"You bought these for me?"

"Yeah. I was curious about how alike we are."

"Don't compare me to you."

"You compared me to yourself first back then," Souji said pointedly, jabbing a chopstick in Adachi's direction. "I just analyzed that thought a bit more. You said that I'm the plague."

"And I don't feel any different about that now. Freeloading plague."

"I said I can cook."

"You also said you have legs. Tell me something I don't know, dumbass."

"I just did. I'm a monster too. Let's eat."

"You say the dumbest shit."

"Only the truth."

The two finish their meals in silence. Souji, to Adachi's chagrin, begins breaking rule number one again, but after awhile, the detective had learned to ignore it, and Souji had learned that Adachi didn't mind it anymore. He thinks about the times that the boy had been malignant towards him, and he cannot think of one. Yet, the bowl-cut plague here, and eating at his kotatsu in all his youth glory, his expression thoughtful. Simply the thought of the kid thinking himself similar to Adachi at all infuriates him. Still, there was a part of him that questioned how true that was; and while he did not yet know that Izanagi was a resident of both of their souls, there was something that made a connection function. Could it be possible...?

No, the boy had friends. Family. A future. A girlfriend probably.

"It's fun getting to know people," says Souji after downing his cabbage soup.

Adachi jumps. _Shit, is the kid psychic now, too?_

"But it's just fun to be relied on. It's fun to feel cared for, and that's really all there is to it," the younger persona user summarizes, and gestures between himself and Adachi with cabbage-free chopsticks. "So, in the end, I'm not much different than Adachi-san."

"You shut people out because you're afraid that they're actually monsters."

Adachi feels his jaw tighten.

"Adachi-san. I think it's important that you know that I'm a monster because I let people in," Souji says a little louder this time, and lowers his voice when he remembers what he was going to say earlier.

"Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are," the boy recites. "Machiavelli. You remember."

"For, in truth, there is no sure way of holding other than by destroying," the detective replies. "Machiavelli. I do remember."

Souji's lips turn upwards, and his smile is as radiant as an unkind sun.

"Don't." Adachi cuts. "I know you're going to say something. Shut up."

The detective buries his face in his hands, having finished his own meal.

"How much does someone need to destroy to find truth?" he mutters.

He's almost begging Souji to answer, because it's _opportune._

But the boy doesn't, and Adachi grins darkly.

After both had decided that the silence had, by then, permeated enough, Souji gathers and washes the plates on his own, leaving Adachi sitting alone at the kotatsu. Adachi is drumming his fingers again, his own sleeves a stained contrast to Souji's rolled up, clean ones. The boy pauses after finishing with the bowls before moving onto the chopsticks and spoons.

"Just enough," Souji finally says.

Adachi looks up.

"One needs to destroy just enough to find truth."

Souji drops a plate to prove his point.


	3. Chapter 3: Coefficient

**A/N: **_Thanks for the reviews this far, guys! It's nice to know about what I'm portraying well, so that I can work hard on keeping that consistent. I altered a bit of chapter 2 to match up better with this one, but the plot remains largely unchanged. I know that the setup is still taking awhile, but it's easier for me to write this way, since it lets me truly flesh out the climax better. This chapter's a bit short, but chapter four is going to be twice as long as what I usually write, since it's close to Christmas anyways! There is crossdressing in this chapter only because it's relevant to the overarching theme of sexes in this chapter. Again, like always, I'd really appreciate it if feedback is given on this chapter also! I'm also looking for a beta reader (I'm relying on my IRL best friend right now) since two pairs of eyes are better than one. If you'd like to offer your kind services, feel free to send me a PM! Finally, **p**__**lease R&R!**_

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Adachi's expression of stricken, bewildered rage is enough to make Souji think before he speaks again. Souji assumes that the plate had held significant sentiment to Adachi, but it isn't the kind of sentiment that the boy had in mind. It came from a tableware set- a gift from a kind neighbor's daughter that Adachi had fancied as a teenager, though they fell out of contact when he attended Hokkaido U and she went her own way elsewhere. He liked her non-perversely; she was an accessory to his daily life, something he saw on a regular basis that didn't seem to have an opinion of him. If she did, she never acted on it, since she was rather gestural with how she communicated with him anyways, through smiles and "_Konnichiwa Adachi-san_"'s when she noticed him exiting the gates of his home. He likes people who behaved one-dimensionally towards him, and she was the last person that treated him that way. She had long, black hair that he couldn't really meticulously describe. It had a pleated nuance to it, but it framed her face just the way that it should; appropriately. He doesn't remember what her lips looked like, but there was a utopia in her eyes somewhere. When she spoke to you, you never wanted her to stop. Her body was an Eden in its own right, ripe, flavorful, curvaceous (probably); her uniform humbled her form.

Yet, he never desired her.

Truthfully, he never lusted for women for the sake of them being women.

They were just commodities that his mother and father felt that he should _feel _interested for, should consider being involved with and invested in, though he never found any benefit in them. What if love was not a priority? What if relationships weren't either? But that's ridiculous to his parents, so he never made himself look separately opinionated. Women represented the other half of society that was bred to become a part of him, that was _meant _for men to have, to own, to marry; the world is built with a patriarchal framework. He'd tried pursuing women in high school. He can't remember the last time he fucked, and he can barely recall his last girlfriend. Sluts, whores, cunts was all he learned. How strange that Yamino and Konishi thought themselves otherwise, or at least, implied that _he _was the social stigma. They might have denied _him, _but he knows that there is a man that neither of them could deny, though the identity of that man is unique to both women. For every woman, there is a man, and for every man, as Machiavelli would say, is a world made to rule.

He watches Souji briskly apologize whilst cleaning the shattered debris, but he's still thinking about the fucking women.

Adachi doesn't expect Souji Seta to understand him, and he hates that the latter is _trying_. Being Adachi Tohru was fucking awful, and living the life of Adachi Tohru was...

Was shit.

"Hey. Leave it alone." Adachi says, a little too loud, and Souji stops in mid-sweep.

"I broke it. I should clean it up," explains Souji, his fingers still cupped around powdered shards.

"In Doujima's house, maybe. Not here. Just leave it."

He'd prefer the remnants to be left alone like the nice neighbor girl. Both the plate and she had been a part of his daily life that he didn't feel anything particular for. The silver-haired boy, however, was making him feel many different things at once, mostly discomfort and frustration. Souji must have noticed, for he'd taken his duffel bag and directed himself to the bathroom. The detective is glad that his boss's nephew at least had the decency to give him peace when he most needed it. Souji Seta is, at this point, much more complex and plague-like than Adachi had painted him to be, and like Van Gogh's impressionist pieces, his traits are developed through details.

Adachi closes his eyes and exhales.

Dinner had sedated him enough, so he sleeps at the kotatsu.

Adachi's morning is, perhaps, literally, the most moving experience he's ever had in his entire career as an Inaba detective. When he opens his again, he's sputtering something, and something is moving against him, something warm and heavy, something he definitely did not remember being on top of him before he'd fallen asleep.

That was not there the night before.

There is a woman in his room.

She was not in his bedroom the night before.

Hell, _he _wasn't in his bedroom the night before.

The side of her face is pressed against his chest, and her breathing is even, her lashes casting morning cat shadows upon her cheek. Twin, silver braids curl around her shoulders, and despite the dark gradient under her eyes, she's "beautiful" in society's standards. Her dreams are intense; he can tell because her fingers keep digging themselves further into his shirt, and her legs kick against his periodically. Yet, he wonders if she looks as elegant awake as she does asleep. Whether the entire night before was actually a dream is a mystery to him. For all he knew, what had truly occurred was that he'd gotten himself and a Yasoinaba high school girl drunk with him-and that this was the result of some unruly incident that could seriously complicate his job. He debates waking her, and inhales sharply when she does so on her own.

Her grey eyes catch his coal ones, and her lips form something similar to "ohayou", _good morning_, before she pushes herself off him and stretches. Mesmerized, he can't bring himself to do the same, and she watches him lazily out of the corner of her eye, her lips tugging into a smile when she makes the jurisdiction to be the first to speak properly.

"That was a good, short break," she comments with a yawn, and takes his hand, leading him to the kotatsu room. "Come, Adachi-san. There's things to be done."

He gapes a little more at his living space and how _clean _it looked, and the rings under the girl's eyes suddenly make sense. She gestures to the kotatsu and curtsies politely, and he squints at the...the pancake and coffee assortment that had been prepared in addition to a morning newspaper placed encouragingly beside it. He sits himself across from her, staring. Adachi is less interested in the food than he is about what had entailed from the night before. The girl was not supposed to be here. The little shit, however, was. The latter had wanted to stay, and Adachi had decided that he honestly couldn't scrape off any more of his ass than he already had.

"What," he finally manages when the pieces fall together.

There is a girl in his home, but she wasn't there the night before.

Souji Seta was in his home the night before, but he isn't here now.

"You-You're-" he sputters, and the girl smiles blankly.

"Yes?"

"You-! You're a _g-girl_ now? Wh-what the hell are you _trying _to do?!"

Souji shrugs shoulders.

"You said that you'd prefer it if a girl came over, and you didn't seem comfortable with me yesterday night. If this helps, then I'm glad."  
Adachi slams his palms onto the table, perhaps a little too forcefully, and tries to articulate something that would make some sort of point.

"It's not whether it helps or not, but whether this is..this is really acceptable..." he mutters, eyes wide.

"You didn't seem to complain about sleeping with a woman. I then decided to stay like this because I assumed that you wouldn't mind living with one."

"_I was asleep when you did that. Of course I couldn't complain_."

"Is it bad though, Adachi-san?" Souji inquires, leaning forwards, and Adachi instinctively turns away.

"It...It's fine as long as you sleep somewhere else," he darkly says, and Souji chuckles into a sleeve. "You don't seem like the type that's into that kind of crossdressing shit."

"That's cute. Are you really that shy?"

The detective scowls, because he really isn't. He's forwards, actually, forwards like the direction that he pushed Saki Konishi in when he dropped her into the Television World.

"It's not that. It's something that you wouldn't understand, so please fucking stop trying to," Adachi snapped.

Adachi's retort makes something in Souji click, and his charming girl persona shatters almost instantly. The sunshine demeanor that had existed previously is now overcast with a serious one, and Souji's voice sounds tense. The realization that Souji Seta had come for reasons other than trying to understand Adachi Tohru became clearer now, and at the moment, Adachi wasn't sure if he felt disappointed by that revelation or more interested.

"I have to try, because there's only one person that understands building a conscious, personal world within '_that world'_, and it's you, Adachi-san." Souji explains, eyes hardening. "I came back because I had to meet you. It has to be you. You'll help me, won't you, Adachi-san?"

"Help with what," Adachi breathes, voice thinning.

Souji's smile, this time, is almost as startling as the antichrist's.

"Teach me how to do it. Teach me how to make a New World, and then destroy it."

"And why would I want to do that."

Souji places a hand on Adachi's cheek.

The latter is surprised that it isn't warm.

"Because we're partners," Souji concludes, and at this, Adachi is silent.


	4. Chapter 4: Partners

**A/N:** _This is the __**plot-heavy**_ _chapter that I've been slowly working on. The tonal difference between this chapter and its predecessor is implied, but I'm trying my best to be delicate with it. I apologize for that in advance if it comes off as jarring, I'm working to create smoother transitions, so bear with me! Each chapter has its own encapsulated theme, though I'm not sure how coherent I was in trying to imply that. I took some creative license with the Persona-Shadow concept, and I'll definitely expand on it some more in the future chapters (as plot naturally unfolds). Anyways, thanks for being patient with me, and I hope you enjoy this installment! __Also, I'd like to give a warm shout out/special thanks to my beta reader, tumblr user __**andagainseeklove**__! I really couldn't have done it without you, and you were an enormous help in helping me solidify this! Thank you so much! Again, feedback is always appreciated. **Please R&R!**  
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Adachi wastes no time in roughly shoving Souji aside. The boy catches himself before he falls and looks just as disheveled as his "partner". Adachi's uneven breathing settles between the unspoken score between them, but it does little else. Souji's fixes his own grey eyes on the shaken Pierrot, and the latter wishes that he'd look elsewhere. Adachi's irises dilate; his mortified expression becomes static, and he's angry at himself for _displaying vexation _at all. He hisses a venomous "_fuck you_" in response to Souji's all-too-familiar smile. At this, the boy's lips form a thin line again; he's almost forgotten that his usual, borderline, sociopathic strategies were ineffective here. Still, he makes Tohru Adachi uncomfortable, and he realizes at the apex of this moment, that nobody else honestly could. Adachi's glare is enough to affirm this.

The detective briskly stands up and strides over to the entrance of his apartment, his mind as stormy as the literature purchased for him. He gives the doorknob a strong twist. A forceful push sends the door swinging, and outside, the wet tempest continues to pour. The diabolic weather, like the television world's fog, clouds the Pierrot's melancholy.

"Get out. The deal's off." Adachi snarls. If the little shit can come up with shit like...shit like _this, _Adachi doesn't want to doubt him for what else he's capable of. He swears mentally, but his eyes are cursing too. The crossdressing has nothing to do with it-Adachi doesn't give two shits about the hobbies that Dojima's nephew fancied himself with. The fact that Souji had explicitly tried to form _contact_with him, however, upsets him. Souji Seta had learned nothing from their last encounter, and this above all, disappoints Adachi tremendously.

"Is it the costume?" says Souji quietly, his tone, to Adachi's surprise, convincingly apologetic. Adachi doesn't reply to the question, and for once, Souji can't assume anything. Slowly, the Fool regains his own composure, and gives Adachi the most self-incriminating look that the detective has ever received. Its sincerity never mattered; the fact that Souji had given it, however, did. The boy tentatively steps towards Adachi, who firmly stood his own ground by physically not retreating. No Adachi has ever shown weakness, and Tohru Adachi plans on retaining his family's honor-if he's had any honor inside him to start with. He grits his teeth visibly.

Rain pours onto a few inches of the carpet, and the draft outside begins rendering Adachi's heater ineffective. Yet, Souji does not make any sign to leave.

"_Gomen_, Adachi-san. I didn't want to make my presence uncomfortable for you."

"It's _fucking weird_. Why, for _fuck's sake_, would any _normal person_ find that _comforting_?""

"Please don't take this as an offense, but neither of us are 'normal' people, I should say."

"_Shut up._You don't know anything-"

"I know that you're alone here-I know that you have questions-"

"-about me. You don't know me. Nobody does; not Dojima. Not you. Get out."

His voice crawls to a hush, and Souji cannot, for once, decipher Adachi's emotional implications, even after his discovery of...of..."_that_". It's obvious that the detective is angry, but for what reason, the Fool can only guess. He picks his next words carefully, not exclusively because he's relying on them to stay here. Adachi, to some extent, needs them too. He convinces himself to see Tohru Adachi not as _Tohru Adachi, _but as anyone else. It was difficult, because primarily, Souji had always accepted Tohru Adachi as "the exception".

He'd have to compromise.

The rain outside was a tangible reality, and everything else that Souji knew, was simply the "Form" of an idea. He closes his eyes and opens them again. He needs to see Adachi Tohru as _the same as everyone else_. The man before him is Satonaka Chie, a self-conscious girl. He is Hanamura Yosuke, a self-conscious boy. He is Dojima Nanako, a burdened child. He is not Tohru Adachi, and therefore, Souji can speak to him differently. He can tell him about "_that". _He had been meaning to delicately reveal his secret to Adachi, rather, Adachi's secret to Adachi, but at this point, it cannot be helped. Souji knows that if he isn't aboveboard with his cards now, he'd never be able to be. It was a desperate gesture, but as a psychological gambler, Souji had become accustomed to taking risks. So he tries again, sidesteps, and minimizes the distance between himself and his "partner".

"You've grown used to building walls instead of bridges. This is a strategic time to build a bridge, even if you hate me."

He pauses.

"I know you have questions-Adachi-san, about your grandmother. About yourself. Doubt separates the Self from the Persona. I've been keeping track of Inaba's news. I'm not stupid enough to think that the murders stopped without reason."

The rain diminishes, the door creaks, and Adachi's hand falls to his side. He doesn't say anything, but to Souji, Adachi's silence is testament enough. Adachi turns so that he's facing away from Souji. The Pierrot feels more at ease this way.

After a pause, the door closes, and Souji breathes a small sigh of relief. Adachi's breathing is steady again, but Souji's conscious that the real tempest is premature.

Adachi's lips twitch. What comes next comes easy.

"And what's your conclusion?" he smirks, and gives Souji the same misogynistic leer that he gave to that fucking reporter. It's easier for him because the boy is in the guise of a woman. It's also harder for him because Souji's vestment is merely a costume, and nothing representative of his true self. Souji squats down beside Adachi, and leans back against the same wall. Exhaling, he finishes laying down his cards, and weariness washes over his blank features.

"My best guess?" asks Souji, quiet. He removes his wig.

"Yeah," answers Adachi, who really wishes he had a cigarette at this moment.

"You no longer resonated with your Persona. It became a shadow again."

A second silence falls in place.

"Yeah," affirms Adachi, and Souji smiles into his wrists.

He honestly didn't expect that to be the truth, but the evidence argued otherwise.

"Would you...Would you like me to tell you what I know?" Souji carefully says. "About your situation?"

Adachi gives him a sideways glance. "That I'm a liar? Go for it."

"_Is it possible to 'lose' a Persona?"_

_Igor smiled at the question, and tilted his head to his assistant expectantly. The blonde woman, in response, gave Souji a sharp look before returning to her task. There was always something about this...this visitor in particular that bothered her. Whereas Elizabeth had been infatuated with her Fool, Margaret wanted little to do with her own. The eldest assistant flipped through her compendium, bookmarking an "Alice" and "Oberon" offhandedly. She gave Souji a fleeting glance before she conjured up an answer, as vague as it may be. Truthfully, she didn't like the question, not because it was unusual, but because it was asked dishonestly. There was always something about the Fool that Margaret didn't like, but she never openly exhibited her feelings. Perhaps that was why she made an effort in being monotonous towards him. Regardless, she shut her book and fulfilled her responsibility as a Velvet Room assistant. _

"'_Lose', no. Once attained, a Persona cannot be lost," she corrected. "Simply put, if its user doubts their Self, their Persona may come to doubt its authenticity and cease to be effective. It will return to its original state, and become a Shadow again."_

_Perplexed, Souji leaned back in his limousine chair. "And that results in...?" he breathed._

"_A secondary shadow experience," comes her dulled reply, and Igor adds on._

"_A 'secondary shadow experience' is different from a primary shadow encounter." Igor continued, burrowing his nose further behind his fingers. He grinned toothily. "It occurs when a Persona user subconsciously 'rejects' their Persona, because they doubt their accepted 'Self'. Their turmoil resurfaces, and if they cannot face it and accept it a second time, their Persona de-evolves into its original Shadow form."_

"_Mm. If that's true, why have my friends avoided these experiences?." Souji quizzed, brows furrowed._

_Igor gave a small chuckle._

"_Dear visitor," began the devilish manifestation, "all Personas need to be nourished. Your friends have your support, and your care for them fosters the strength of their Personas. It works both ways. Personas provide mutual support for each other through Social Links."_

"_If you lack Social Links, then your Persona cannot grow, and the likelihood that it will become a Shadow again may increase," Margaret explained. She clicked her nails. "We stress the importance of Social Links because ignoring them is detrimental. Social Links prevent Personas from reversing into Shadows."_

_Souji mulled over this with a slow nod._

_He leaned forward, and slowly revealed the question that he'd been holding back. "Could... someone with a Persona-Turned-Shadow still enter the other world?"_

_Margaret gave him a hard look._

"_No. They'd need someone with a Persona to bring them in."_

"_Mm... So if someone's Shadow self appeared in the other world again, it's likely that they can no longer enter the other world again on their own, and it's also likely that they cannot use their Persona?"_

"_Correct," Margaret hesitantly replied, not because she was unsure of her answer, but because the Fool's question was strange. The boy before him had asked nothing of the sort, if Elizabeth had truly told her as much about him as she'd claimed to. Still, her answer satisfied Souji, and when she looked up from her compendium again, he'd left the Velvet Room._

"A 'secondary shadow experience', huh?" says Adachi softly.

"That's what it is, Adachi-san," Souji agrees. "You doubted your actions after I let you go. I was still able to enter the television world while I was in Tokyo."

Adachi laughs.

"You do realize that I'm a police officer, and that lying to me would be breaking the law." he darkly answers, pressing his palms to the carpet. "There's no way you'd be able to find my Shadow if you entered the other world through a random TV in Tokyo."

"But I get it, like I got it two years ago." He grabs Souji by the forearm and tightens his grip until his knuckles go white. "_You're still playing detective._"

Souji winces and fails in brushing the detective off.

"No. It's like you said two years ago. I'm on your side. I'm on the killer's side. I understand what that means."

The Fool tries to chuckle off the Pierrot's suspicions. "Your Shadow found me. An important event in your life took place in Tokyo, didn't it?"

Adachi crumples slightly, though his gaze does not waver.

"How...much did he tell you?"

"Enough to be disappointed and interested in you. He seemed a lot more passionate about the killings than you during our last encounter-in the police station."

"And what do you want with me."

"I'm your accomplice; what you want is what I want. Do you want to continue? I can help you enter the television world again. If those murders were your long-term goal, then I underestimated you."

The silence, this time, feels shared. Adachi isn't sure whether Souji's reply warrants anything personal, but trusting him is a necessary risk. His eyes finally meets the younger Persona-user's, and they remain focused there.

"I want you to first get dressed. Get out of that thing." He gently says. "We'll talk after."

He purses his lips and swallows.

"You...You can stay."


End file.
